


Independent Study: Dalliance and Despondency

by onemechanicalalligator



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Depression, Eating Disorders, Friendship, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Recovery, Reunions, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: When Abed moves to California, Jeff stays behind. This is an exploration of how they cope (and fail to cope) without each other, and what happens when, after two years apart, Jeff shows up on Abed's doorstep.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Jeff Winger
Comments: 21
Kudos: 67





	Independent Study: Dalliance and Despondency

**NOW**

Jeff is fairly certain he has the right address. But he's convinced himself that that's the reason he is so nervous right now -- because this could be the wrong apartment, the wrong person. Still, he's come this far. So he plucks up the courage to knock on the door. 

He can hear movement inside, and he starts to panic a little. He takes a deep breath and stands up a little straighter. Brushes a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. 

The door opens, and there he is, just as thin and lanky as Jeff remembers, though his hair is a little longer. He's wearing jeans and a cardigan, not much has changed there. The t-shirt underneath is plain, now, and his clothes look newer, like maybe he doesn't do all of his shopping at thrift stores anymore. 

He freezes. 

So does Jeff. 

It feels like they stand there for ages. In reality, it could be ten seconds or ten minutes. 

"Jeff," Abed finally says, clasping his hands and twisting his fingers together. 

"Abed," Jeff replies, savoring how the name feels on his tongue. 

"Come in," Abed says, stepping out of the doorway to make room. "How, um… I mean, what…" He stops and closes his mouth. Takes a breath and tries again. "I missed you. And I'm so sorry." 

He looks up at Jeff with those dark brown eyes, wide and searching. Jeff glances around the small apartment, trying to be discreet. Looking for signs that someone else shares this space. 

"I missed you too," he says, now fairly sure Abed lives alone. "Don't apologize. Are you, uh… by yourself?" He spits it out awkwardly, not really asking what he meant to ask. 

"I'm not seeing anyone. That's what you're asking, right?" Abed says, because he's always been able to read Jeff like a book. 

Jeff nods and takes a step closer to Abed, so close they can almost touch. 

"Jeff," whispers Abed, reaching out a hand to touch his face. "You look so good." 

He brushes his hand across Jeff's cheek and then traces his jawline with his index finger. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are slightly closed. He draws a shaky breath. 

Jeff takes Abed by the shoulders and walks him back a few steps until he's against the wall of the kitchen. 

"I'd really like to kiss you," he says. "But only if that's okay with you." 

Abed's eyes fill with tears at that, but he nods, and then he nods again more vigorously, and then Jeff pressing his lips to Abed's and suddenly it’s like no time has passed at all, they still know each other in this intimate way, and they kiss like they're remembering an old routine. And it feels right, and it feels familiar, and it feels like home. 

Abed makes a noise in the back of his throat and then grabs Jeff by the hand and drags him all the way into the kitchen. He jumps up to sit on the counter with his legs dangling, then pulls Jeff over to stand in between them. Jeff’s heart jumps. They used to do this all the time, on his counter at home, or on the table in the study room. Abed was always drawn to sitting on tables for some reason.

Jeff leans in to kiss Abed again and Abed wraps his legs around Jeff’s waist and his arms around his neck, latching on and kissing him hard, almost desperately. Jeff doesn’t mind, because he’s desperate too, he’s been dreaming of this moment for years. He feels like every thought has been emptied from his brain, and the space is just filled with Abed -- Abed’s hands, Abed’s mouth, Abed’s eyes. Abed’s--

“I need you,” Abed suddenly mutters. “Right now. I need…”

Jeff removes Abed’s arms from around his neck and then pulls off his cardigan, followed quickly by his t-shirt. Abed wastes no time doing the same for Jeff, and when they’re both bare-chested Jeff slides Abed off the counter and back onto the floor so they can finish undressing each other. They make a pile of their clothes in the doorway.

“Do you want to go to your bedroom?” Jeff asks between frantic touches and kisses. 

“No,” Abed says, and then gently bites Jeff’s neck. “Can I just...can I please just suck you off right here on the kitchen floor?” He looks Jeff straight in the eye and Jeff wonders if it’s possible to just combust on the spot.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that,” he murmurs, and he stands with his back against the counter, hands braced on the ledge as Abed kneels in front of him. 

He nearly falls over when Abed takes him into his mouth. Jeff certainly hasn’t been celibate in the two years since they were last together, but he definitely hasn’t been satisfied, either. For half that time he was using sex more as a way to punish or hurt himself than as a way to feel any kind of real pleasure, any sort of connection. A blowjob in the last stall at a dive bar isn’t even in the same _category_ as what Abed is doing to him right now. 

When he comes, it feels like it’s his very first orgasm all over again, like he’s not quite sure what’s happening, and all he knows is that this feels better than anything has ever felt in his entire life. His ears are ringing, so he doesn’t even know if he's making noise, but from the look on Abed’s face he must be. Abed always loved to make Jeff scream.

Once Jeff can see straight again, they switch places, and Jeff finally remembers what it feels like to enjoy giving head, to pleasure someone you love and care about. He listens intently to every sound Abed makes, remembering the things that make him gasp and whine and groan and sigh. He pays attention to Abed’s breath, the way it stutters, the way it gets quicker, more erratic. He tries to pinpoint the exact moment when Abed will completely fall apart, and he does, and he swallows as if he's dying of thirst and Abed is a glass of water.

After, they cuddle together on the cold, hard tile of the kitchen floor, both sleepy and content. Jeff doesn’t want the moment to end.

And at the same time, thoughts are flooding back into his mind, inescapable thoughts, and he’s wondering if he should say something, if it’s time to Talk About Things.

“Abed,” he finally says. “Maybe we should--”

“Shh,” Abed interrupts, and wraps both arms around Jeff’s torso. “Just a little while longer, okay? I’m just...not quite ready to talk about it. Not yet.”

“Okay,” Jeff says, and presses a kiss to the top of Abed’s head.

**THEN:** **_Prologue_ **

They’d been hooking up for almost the entirety of their time at Greendale. That’s longer than a lot of relationships last, but they never called this a relationship. They never said they were exclusive (even though they were), and they never said they loved each other (even though they did). They never considered that the natural next step would be to make it official, and then maybe Jeff would go to Los Angeles with Abed, and they could have a really good thing going.

Instead, they danced around the issue until the very last minute, until Abed finally said, _you could come live with me in California, you know,_ and Jeff scoffed at that, because he was afraid, and then he poured another drink, because that was always his next move. And then Abed said, _you could try to stop drinking so much, you know,_ and Jeff slammed the glass down on the counter, so hard that it smashed into pieces, and it was loud, too loud, and Abed just shook his head at Jeff before walking out.

Neither of them thought it would ever get to that point, _a breaking point,_ not that first time when Abed was helping Jeff drunk-dial Britta, and somehow they managed to fall into bed together, and then they just kept falling. Sometimes in Abed’s dorm room, sometimes in Jeff’s condo. Sometimes in Jeff’s car, or in a bathroom on campus, or, once, in the choir room, when Abed was still dressed as the Mouse King. 

It was always good for both of them, even when things got significantly darker over the last year or so, when Jeff’s drinking was obviously becoming more of a problem and Abed was occasionally losing touch with reality again. Even then, they had each other to use as a distraction, and they could use their bodies to relieve some of the tension. They could hold each other and remind each other that things would be okay. That Jeff was worthy of love. That Abed could feel his emotions without being consumed.

Their friends weren’t explicitly made aware of their arrangement, but they obviously all knew. All of them had walked in on them at one point or another, or they had seen some article of Abed’s clothing at Jeff’s condo, or a hint had slipped out in casual conversation. It was just one of those things that no one talked about, and no one really thought about what would happen if or when it finally ended. 

It ended with Abed unwilling to hold himself back because Jeff was too afraid to take a step forward.

It ended with Jeff unwilling to admit that Abed was making the right choice for his future, and maybe he could be a part of that.

It ended with too much fear and not enough communication, too many slammed doors and not enough apologies, too much pride and not enough compromise.

It ended with two broken people trying to pretend like everything was going to be fine, as if that would make it true.

**THEN:** **_Abed_ **

**one**

[VIDEO CLIP #1]

**INT. ABED’S KITCHEN**

ABED looks normal and well-rested. He flashes a brief smile at the camera.

ABED

Hi, Britta. Welcome to my first week in California. You can stop bugging me now. You probably won’t, because I’ll send these as a compilation, so you don’t know I’m filming them. Even though I tell you that I am every time we talk, which is pretty much every day.

I’m making these videos for you, but I’ll be recording them as a conversation with the camera, like a documentary or a video diary. Don’t expect me to address you every time. I don’t want it to get tedious or overly personal.

This is really just to prove to you that I’m doing fine here in LA, on my own, and that I don’t need you or Jeff or anyone else. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.

ABED pauses and blinks at the camera once.

ABED _(CONT’D)_

Of course, I don’t want you to think I don’t miss you, because I do. I miss all of you very much, and Greendale, too, and my dad. But I’m starting a new life here, and it’s my own, and I need you to know that I’m fine. 

So, with that said... Until next time, I guess.

ABED shoots finger guns at the camera while clicking his tongue and reaches forward to turn it off.

**HARD CUT TO:**

[VIDEO CLIP #2]

**INT. ABED’S LIVING ROOM**

ABED is sitting on the couch and taking up most of the shot. His hair is slightly disheveled and he looks a little tired, but mostly nothing is really too out of the ordinary. He speaks directly to the camera. 

ABED

Hi.

It’s pretty here. The ocean isn’t too far from my apartment, and I’ve started going running there sometimes. And speaking of my apartment, it’s kind of perfect. It’s small, so there’s not too much to clean, but there’s enough room to live. I might learn to cook some stuff eventually. Until then, I have lots of buttered noodles. 

I don’t know much about my neighbors, but I don’t really mind. One of them has a cat that sits outside my windowsill some afternoons, and we seem to get along nicely. Another one is Polish, and I hear her yelling on the phone sometimes. The walls are really thin. She seems to really hate the person her son is marrying. So there’s some neighborhood gossip for you.

I’ve been having a little bit of a hard time sleeping lately. I don’t know if it’s just because of all the noise, or if it’s something else. Hopefully that gets better soon.

They pushed back the start date of my show, so I have a few weeks still before I start working. I guess that’s significant, and maybe I should have led with it. Oh, well. I’m not reshooting these. I’m also not watching them, just filming them back to back in the same file, so if I mess something up, don’t expect me to go back and fix it.

I’m really tired. I’m going to try to sleep. See you later.

ABED tilts his head and stares at the camera for a moment. His eyes seem far away. He looks away and reaches forward to turn the camera off.

**HARD CUT TO:**

[VIDEO CLIP #3]

**INT. ABED’S BEDROOM**

ABED is sitting at his desk looking tired. He is holding a mug and his eyes are slightly bloodshot.

ABED

Hi. It’s another day in paradise, I guess. I’m still having trouble sleeping, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit scattered. I guess I should try to increase my caffeine consumption before filming.

Overall, everything is fine. I still like my apartment and I’m starting to learn where things are. So that’s a nice thing. I’m really happy here and I’m glad I moved. Some things are hard but I’m sure they’ll get easier. 

The air smells different here, like the ocean, and flowers, and it’s nice.

ABED forces a smile. It doesn’t look natural at all. 

ABED _(CONT’D)_

Anyway, that’s about all I have for today, I guess. I’ll try to say more next time. I hope everyone in Greendale is doing well. I miss you.

ABED appears to hesitate for a moment before reaching to turn off the camera.

**HARD CUT TO:**

[VIDEO CLIP #4]

**INT. ABED’S BED**

ABED is sitting in bed wrapped in a blanket. His hair is a mess and his eyes look a little wild and very red, like he just recently stopped crying.

ABED

Hi again. I think my air conditioner is broken, because it’s really cold in here. 

It’s really hot outside, and humid. I’m not used to it.

Anyway. Nothing is really new. I’m getting a little bored with no work or school or anything. But there are lots of good things on TV, so that’s helping.

It’s, um. It’s fine, though. Everything is fine. I’m fine. I--

ABED cuts himself off and sits for a moment with his mouth pressed firmly shut.

ABED _(CONT’D)_

It’s fine. This is fine.

Bye.

ABED knocks the camera over as he lunges forward to turn it off. His hand covers the lens.

**HARD CUT TO:**

[VIDEO CLIP #5]

 **INT.** **_UNDETERMINED LOCATION_ **

Only ABED’s face is visible. He is laying on his side. His hair is greasy and scruffy, like it hasn’t been washed in a long time, and there are dark purple bruises underneath his eyes, which are red and watery. He looks pale and extremely unwell, and his voice is strained and rough. He blinks a lot and his eyes never look directly at the camera.

ABED

Hi. Everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I promise. 

Just... Just tell Jeff I’m doing fine without him, okay? And I hope he’s doing fine, too. Tell him...we definitely made the right decision.

ABED fumbles to turn off the camera. His hand is shaking violently.

 **  
****FADE OUT.**

**two**

Britta doesn’t know who to call first after she watches Abed’s video clips. She could call Abed, but she’s not sure what to say and it seems like she should come up with a plan first. She could call Annie, but she’s across the country at her internship. She could call Jeff, but…

“Hello?”

“Frankie? Hey, uh, it’s Britta.” It’s late afternoon. Britta doesn’t even know if Frankie is at home, or at Greendale, or somewhere else. She wonders if she’s interrupting.

“Britta, is everything okay? What’s the matter?” Frankie sounds focused, but not irritated. Britta figures she’s in the clear.

“Are you busy right now?” Britta asks. “I really need to show you something.”

“I’m just at home,” Frankie says. “I’m not doing anything. Do you want to come over here? Is it something you can bring? Do you need me to meet you somewhere?”

“I’ll come to you,” Britta says. “If you don’t mind giving me your address?”

Frankie does, and Britta rushes over with her laptop. She sets it up at Frankie’s dining room table and they watch together. All of the clips are very short. The whole video is only a few minutes long. The second time through, Britta notices Abed beginning to deteriorate even earlier than she’d originally thought.

“What do I _do?”_ Britta asks desperately. 

“I don’t know,” Frankie says slowly. “Do you... Do you think it has to do with Jeff? They kind of just broke up, didn't they?”

“They weren’t technically _dating,”_ Britta says. “But they’d been hooking up for like...five years, I think? And I really don’t think either of them were with anyone else during that time. Neither one of them has been willing to talk about it at all, though, at least not to me.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, pondering.

“Look, Britta,” Frankie says finally, sighing. “if I buy you a plane ticket, will you go out there and check on him?”

“Go out to LA?” Britta asks, her brain going a million miles a minute. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Frankie says. “I’m really worried. This is…” She motions at the laptop screen. “This is not okay.”

“Is there, um…” Britta says hesitantly, and then pauses. “Is there any chance you would consider coming with me?”

 _“Me?”_ Frankie asks, her eyes widening.

“It’s just…” Britta bites her lip. “I don’t have the greatest track record taking care of Abed when he’s upset. And sometimes I kind of...make it worse. And I’m terrified of making it worse when there’s no one else there to help fix it.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay, Britta,” Frankie says. “Abed loves you.”

“I know that, and I love him, but sometimes I express it badly. I just...I can’t go alone. It’s too much responsibility. I’ll screw it up. And you care about Abed, too, right? That’s why you’re willing to send me in the first place?”

“Give me a little while to price plane tickets,” Frankie sighs. “I’ll try to get us both out there as soon as possible.”

**three**

Two days later Britta and Frankie arrive in Los Angeles and take an Uber to Abed’s apartment. He won’t answer phone calls, but he occasionally responds to Britta’s texts with one- or two-word messages. Britta lets him know she and Frankie are coming, and asks him to please leave the door unlocked for them. He doesn’t reply to that one, so they don’t know what to expect when they get there.

As it turns out, he did leave the door unlocked. He doesn’t respond when they call out to him as they enter the apartment, though. Britta looks around as they step into the small kitchen, half-expecting to see dishes, food wrappers, some kind of mess, but it’s immaculate. The whole apartment is immaculate, actually -- they can basically see the whole thing from the doorway, besides the bathroom and Abed’s room. 

“Abed?” calls Frankie a second time. Still no response.

Britta hears a faint sound and follows it. It’s music, coming from behind a closed door that must be Abed’s room. She knocks, and there’s no response. She knocks again. Nothing.

She glances at Frankie, who nods, and then she turns the knob and pushes the door open.

The first thing that hits them is the chill. Abed’s room is freezing. He obviously still hasn’t managed to get the air conditioner fixed. The second thing is the music. His laptop is open on his bed, and his playlist appears simply to be Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” on repeat.

The third thing Britta notices is Abed himself, curled up on the floor and wrapped in a sheet -- wrapped in _only_ a sheet, she realizes. 

She’s still taking it all in when she catches the lyrics of the chorus, and her heart sinks.

> _There's nothing where he used to lie_ _  
> __My inspiration has run dry_ _  
> __And that's what's goin' on_
> 
> _Nothing's right, I'm torn_ _  
> __I'm all out of faith_  
>  _This is how I feel_  
>  _I'm cold and I am shamed_  
>  _Lying naked on the floor..._

“Is he _acting it out?”_ Britta whispers in Frankie’s ear, and Frankie nods slowly.

“Abed?” Frankie says, softly but firmly. “Can you hear us?”

Abed’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t move, doesn’t make any indication that he’s heard her, so Britta turns off the music and they try again. Britta knows Abed doesn’t like to be touched without warning, but she needs to be sure he’s _okay_ and everything, so she sets a hand on his shoulder.

“Abed?” she says. “Say something. Please.”

He flails under her touch. Slowly, he opens his eyes and blinks at the two of them. Britta realizes he’s shaking, and she pulls a blanket off the bed and hands it to him. He immediately wraps it around himself.

“Can I get you something, Abed?” Frankie asks.

Abed just stares at her, then at Britta, and then back at Frankie. 

“How long have you been here?” he croaks, then winces and clears his throat.

“We just got here,” Britta says.

“I, um,” Abed says. “I thought I dreamed it. When you said you were coming.”

His eyes are glassy, his lips chapped. Britta’s never seen him like this.

“Abed, when was the last time you drank any water?” Frankie asks, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

“Whenever I finished that,” Abed says, motioning toward an empty water bottle next to the bed. “Yesterday, I think. Maybe.”

“And when did you eat last?” she asks.

Abed shrugs.

“Can I bring you something?” 

“I don’t…” Abed begins, and stops. He takes a deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is tentative and wobbly. “I don’t think there’s any, um, food. In the apartment.”

“Abed!” Britta exclaims without thinking first, and Frankie puts a hand on her knee and shakes her head slightly. _This is why I made you come with me,_ Britta thinks. _And thank god you’re here._

“How long has it been since you ate anything, Abed?” Frankie asks again, her voice calm and soothing.

“A few...days? I think?” Abed whispers. “Maybe longer. I don’t know.” He closes his eyes again and wraps the blanket tighter around himself. “I didn’t mean to…” He trails off.

“Okay,” Frankie says. “Abed, why don’t we help you off the floor and into bed. And maybe you can tell us where you keep your pajamas, and we can bring you those, and some water. And then I want to talk to Britta in the other room for a minute and we’ll make a plan. Does that sound okay? You don’t need to do anything right now except focus on getting to bed.”

Abed nods warily, his eyes still closed. He opens them when Britta and Frankie come up to either side of him, supporting him and helping him to stand while he struggles to keep the blanket and sheet wrapped around himself. He lays down on the bed and points Britta to where she can find a clean pair of pajamas, and she discreetly folds a pair of underwear along with them and then hands them over. Meanwhile, Frankie fills his water bottle up in the kitchen and brings it to him.

“We’ll go out to the living room while you change, okay?” Britta says, and Abed nods.

Frankie starts talking as soon as they close Abed’s door.

“So, this isn’t great,” she says. “I guess I can understand a little better why you wanted me to come. I know I saw the video and everything, but this is still...worse than I expected.”

“Abed gets carried away,” Britta explains. “And if there’s no one to drag him back, I think he can get lost. I don’t... I don’t want to lose him.” She whispers the last part, then sinks down on the couch and puts her face in her hands.

“We’re not _going_ to lose him,” Frankie assures her. “That’s why we’re here. _We are dragging him back._ We won’t leave until we do.”

Britta nods uncertainly.

“One of us needs to go buy food,” Frankie says. “There’s a grocery store on the next block. I saw it when we got here. The other one needs to stay here with Abed. Which do you feel more comfortable with?”

“I, uh…” Britta says, blinking hard so she doesn’t cry.

“Why don’t you go to the store,” Frankie says. “I think some fresh air might be good. And if you have to stop and cry for a little while, you can do that.”

Britta nods.

“Here.” Frankie opens her purse and pulls out a credit card. She hands it to Britta. “Use this.”

“Frankie, I…” 

“You’re a bartender, and I have a salaried position. Let’s skip the nonsense and just agree that this makes the most sense. Deal?”

“Deal,” Britta says, wiping her eyes and taking the card. “Okay. I’ll be back in a little while.”

**four**

Frankie knocks on Abed’s door. There’s a shuffling sound, and then it opens. Abed is standing in the doorway in his pajamas, swaying slightly. She takes him by the elbow and walks him back to the bed.

“You didn’t have to get up, Abed,” she says. “You could have just said _come in.”_

Abed doesn’t respond. He sits on the bed with his back against the wall and pulls his feet up, arranging himself so his chest is pressed against his thighs and his chin is resting on his knees. He looks exhausted and frail and broken. Honestly, Frankie thinks, he looks a little bit like a ghost. Maybe it’s the haunted expression on his face.

“How long has this been going on, Abed?” Frankie asks, trying to sound comforting and gentle. Unfortunately, that’s never been her strong suit, and she’s really not sure how she’s doing.

“What?” Abed says.

“I said, how long has this--”

“I know what you said,” Abed interrupts. “I don’t know what the _this_ is that you’re referring to.”

“The not eating or drinking or showering,” Frankie clarifies. “The whole ‘cold and shamed lying naked on the floor’ thing. The sad thing.”

“I’m not sure,” Abed says slowly. “A few days, I guess. I can’t...my brain isn’t working right. I don’t remember. It’s all blurry and complicated.”

“That’s okay,” Frankie says.

"The eating thing might be an, um, ongoing issue," Abed adds, so quietly that Frankie barely hears him.

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

“The sad thing…” Abed continues, and leans so that his forehead is against his knees. When he speaks again, it’s muffled. “That’s been going on since Jeff--”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, just wraps his arms tightly around his legs like he’s trying to make himself even smaller. 

“Okay,” Frankie says. “It’s okay, Abed. I sent Britta out to get some groceries. Can you try eating something when she gets back? And then maybe we can try to help you take a shower? I want you to eat first, though. I’m afraid of you falling.”

“Yeah,” Abed says dully from behind his knees.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asks. “Until Britta gets back?” Frankie is torn between wanting to treat Abed like an adult and wanting to make sure he’s safe. But she figures if he doesn’t want her there, she can always just sit in the hallway. Just in case.

Abed doesn’t answer right away, and Frankie starts to walk back to the doorway to let herself out.

“Wait,” Abed says, and lifts his head up slightly. “Would, um…” He pauses to clear his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice breaks. “Would you stay with me? Please?”

“Of course,” Frankie says, relieved. She sits down on the edge of the bed, and then Abed unclasps his hands and pats the mattress, the spot next to him. Frankie slips her shoes off and scoots back until she’s against the wall. 

Abed takes her hand in his, and they sit there together to wait for Britta. 

**five**

Britta and Frankie stay for three days. They feed and clean and care for Abed, bringing him back into the human world. They talk about TV and movies and LA with him, and help him pick out some good spots near his apartment to go running. Britta signs him up for a yoga class at a studio nearby. 

He refuses to talk about Jeff, and they don’t force him.

Before they leave, they make him promise to keep in better touch, to reach out if things start to get bad again. They set a schedule to video chat once a day for a little while, and then taper off, but never to go longer than a week without checking in. 

Abed says Annie would be proud of them. He promises to start video chatting with Annie more, too. 

They make sure he has plans to keep him busy until his PA job starts, even if the plans are just things like watching a movie or going for a walk or calling his dad on the phone. They fill his kitchen with food that is easy to prepare, things that they know he’ll be willing to eat. They set him up for success. 

He makes them promise not to tell Jeff about any of this.

They promise.

**six**

It works.

A month later he has a routine, and a job he likes. Britta and Frankie and Annie are all able to verify that he looks healthy, he’s taking care of himself. They applaud themselves on a job well done.

There’s a sadness in his eyes they never comment on, though, and it never quite seems to go away. There’s something that used to be there, and now it’s missing, and it probably isn’t even noticeable to most people, but it’s obvious to Abed’s friends.

It’s the sparkle from his eye, and everyone knows Jeff held onto it when Abed left.

**THEN:** **_Jeff_ **

**one**

Jeff hugs Abed twice when he drops him off at the airport. The first hug is to say, _goodbye._ The second is to say, _I’m sorry._ Abed smiles at him, a sincere smile, and then he turns around and walks away with Annie, and Jeff gets back in his car and starts driving. He drives all night, because no one on the freeway can hear him screaming, and no one cares when he pulls over because he’s crying so hard he can’t see, and he tries to get it all out of his system before he has to see his friends again.

When he gets home, he starts drinking. He has no intention of stopping.

**two**

The first night after Abed leaves, Jeff drinks too much.

He drinks _too much_ on a regular basis, but this time is different. This time he drinks so much that he calls Craig and asks him for help, and in the six minutes it takes for Craig to get the text, read the text, walk down the hall, and let himself into Jeff’s condo with the key that he keeps above the door, Jeff is unconscious and Craig can’t wake him up. 

He calls an ambulance, and they keep Jeff for a few hours, and then he promises them that this was a one-time thing, that he’s fine, and they let him go home. He promises Craig the same thing, and Craig isn’t as easily convinced, and he certainly isn’t thrilled, but he still agrees not to tell anyone for the time being. Jeff promises to be more careful. 

He lets Craig think he means he’ll be more careful about how much he drinks.

What he _really_ means is that he’ll be more careful about getting caught.

**three**

The second time he does it is several weeks later, and Craig isn’t so easy to convince. He yells at Jeff for putting him through this again, then immediately apologizes profusely for the guilt trip. He tells Britta, Frankie, and Annie. As far as Jeff knows, he does not tell Abed.

He doesn’t want anyone to tell Abed.

The third time he does it, months have passed, and he’s in a bar, so his friends never find out that an ambulance had to be called, that he spent the night in the hospital under the care of a nurse who recognized him from the last time he was there.

He’s in danger of losing his job. He keeps showing up to work drunk, and no one will make excuses for him anymore.

The fourth time is on the nine month anniversary of Abed leaving. He knows it’s not a significant date, but he uses it as a reason nonetheless. He drinks in his car in the parking lot of the liquor store and walks four blocks to the hospital when he feels things start to go south. He finishes the bottle as he walks through the sliding doors of the emergency room.

Craig and Frankie put him on an indefinite leave of absence. He wasn’t doing great at work anyway, but without that anchor, he’s really lost. He forgets who he is, who he was. Who he’s supposed to be.

His finances are touchy, because he spends all his money on alcohol, and all his time not working. 

His friends stage an intervention a few months later, after the fifth time, when Craig finds him again and drives him to the hospital, and everyone in the emergency room knows him by name. Jeff tries to talk his way out of it, tries charm, and then guilt, and then charisma, and then he flat out begs them to leave him alone. Says he’ll be better. Promises it’s going to be fine.

**four**

They want him to go to rehab, and he refuses. Walks out of the intervention. Doesn’t contact his friends for three days, and spends that time on a bender in Denver, drinking too much and hooking up with random people and passing out in nasty hotel rooms. He texts Britta a couple times, just so she knows he’s alive. Just so _he_ knows he’s alive. 

When he finally comes home, they all come to his place and go through the whole thing again. They tell him it’s been a year since Abed left, and he interrupts them to say, _don’t you think I fucking know that?_

They tell him he can’t keep doing this, and he says, _watch me._

They ask him if he has a snarky response ready for everything they’re going to say, and he says, _fuck you, I don’t need you, I’m fine._

They say nothing, and he starts to cry, and he can’t stop, and by that time they’ve all already left.

That night he goes to bed without the intention of waking up.

Britta shows up randomly around midnight. 

Later, she tells him she “had a feeling.”

She calls the ambulance. 

She stays with him.

**five**

There are six days between the time that Jeff is released from the hospital and the time that there is a spot for him in a rehab program covered by his insurance. Britta stays with him whenever she’s not at work, and Craig comes over when she is, and Jeff thinks he’s lucky their schedules worked out that way. He knows he can’t be alone anymore.

Honestly, he’s never been okay being alone.

They don’t keep him from drinking. He’s too far gone for that; the withdrawals would be too dangerous. They don’t keep him from doing much of anything, really, except killing himself. He thinks that’s probably fair.

During those six days Abed comes to town for a visit. Jeff makes everyone promise not to tell him what’s going on, but Abed gets the information out of them anyway. He’s very good at reading people, and they’re very bad at lying. 

He comes over one afternoon. Jeff is in sweats on the couch watching TV. Britta is organizing tupperware in the kitchen, and she stops to let Abed in. He sits down in a chair across from Jeff, and Britta goes back to her task.

“Hi,” Abed says, his face mostly devoid of emotion, but Jeff can see the worry in his eyes.

“Hi,” Jeff replies. He knew Abed was coming over, but that hadn’t stopped him from sipping whiskey all morning. He can’t tell if he sounds normal or not. He doesn’t know what normal is anymore.

“It’s, um…” Abed says, and stops. He looks down at his hands, then back up at Jeff. “Look, I just…” He stops again.

“It’s good to see you,” Jeff says flatly, looking away. He’s overwhelmed, so he’s shutting down. It’s Abed’s coping mechanism, not his, and it feels foreign and uncomfortable. He’s not doing it on purpose.

“Jeff…” Abed says, and this time his voice sounds different. Jeff looks up, and Abed’s eyes are full of tears, and his face is nothing _but_ emotion now, and he looks terrified. 

“Abed, it’s--” Jeff begins to say.

“I-- I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” Abed says, and bolts from the room. Jeff hears the front door open and close. 

That's the last time they see each other. 

**six**

Jeff spends 90 days in rehab, thanks to the fantastic insurance policy Craig got for Greendale because he’s a level-7 susceptible and very, very bad at money management. For once, even Frankie isn’t upset about it, because it gets them their Jeff back. 

And it really is _their Jeff_ who comes back, and it's someone they haven't seen for years, and they missed him so much, and they tell him that over and over. 

Britta came to see him during detox, when he was hooked up to IVs and sicker than he’d ever been, positive he was actually _for real_ going to die this time. He clung to her presence, her friendship, her support. Craig and Frankie came later, and all of them continued to visit him the whole time he was in treatment, even on the days when he refused to talk, and the days when he couldn’t stop shaking, and the days when he wouldn’t stop asking about Abed.

When he gets home, they're still there. They refuse to give up on him. He holds onto that in his darkest moments, when he's not sure he can keep going. When he sits on the kitchen floor at three in the morning contemplating driving to the liquor store because he forgot what he’s supposed to do when he can’t sleep. When everything feels wrong and unfamiliar and he just wants to go back to what he _knows._ When he wonders if it was all for nothing. He calls them, and they come. 

_Someone always comes._ Sometimes it’s Britta, and it took a few years but she’s learned that what Jeff really needs is just someone to be there with him and hold his hand or give him a hug and remind him that he’s real, that he can get through this moment. Sometimes it’s Craig, and he’s great at distraction, bringing props or costumes or movies, telling stories about his sister. Sometimes it’s Frankie, and she’s a quiet, calming presence, and he finds himself able to talk to her most easily about his issues, which he didn’t really expect.

When he’s alone -- when he’s waiting for someone to come to him, or he hasn’t called them yet -- that’s when he talks to Abed in his head, tells him everything. He imagines how he would react, if he would be proud or disappointed. If he would even recognize Jeff anymore.

**seven**

He goes back to work and discovers he's actually great at teaching law, and he really loves it, too. 

Slowly, he learns how to be a whole person without depending on alcohol to fill up the broken parts. 

Slowly, he learns to work on fixing those broken parts instead of masking them or pretending they don't exist. 

Slowly, he learns how to live in the present without getting stuck in the past or the future. 

Slowly, he learns that he is worthy of good things, of friendship, of respect. Of love. 

When he's been sober for a whole year, he flies to Los Angeles. 

**NOW**

They take a shower together, then get dressed and sit down in Abed's living room. He offers to make lunch. 

"I didn't know you could cook," says Jeff. 

"I learned," Abed replies. "I had a hard time adjusting when I first moved out here. So I tried to focus some of my energy on learning new things, and cooking was one of them." He pauses and bites his lip. "I, um, also had some trouble remembering to eat. When I first got here. So it helped with that, too." 

"I didn't know that was still--" 

"I asked Britta and Frankie not to tell you. When they came to see me,” Abed says.

"I didn't even know they'd come to see you," Jeff admits. "I also kind of…had a hard time adjusting when you left." 

"We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" Abed says. "Come sit in the kitchen while I make lunch." 

Jeff sits down and Abed starts pulling out ingredients. 

"I don’t know where to start,” Jeff says.

“You look amazing,” Abed offers. “Healthy. Happy. You smile more.”

“I went to rehab,” Jeff says. “A few days after the last time I saw you. Did you know that?”

“I knew you were going,” Abed says. “I never asked anyone how it turned out, though. I was…” He bites his lip again.

“Scared?” Jeff suggests.

Abed nods.

“I spent three months there,” Jeff says. “And it was so hard, and it was still so hard after I finished the program. But I’ve been sober for 371 days.”

“That’s amazing,” Abed says, dropping the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables and walking over to Jeff. He wraps him in a tight hug. “That's _amazing._ I’m so glad. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Jeff whispers. “I, uh...would have died, probably. If I hadn’t gone. It got pretty close. I...” He can't finish his last thought.

Abed squeezes him harder, until he’s shaking, until Jeff can feel Abed’s tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” Jeff says, softly. “Hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay,” Abed says fiercely, and pulls back from Jeff’s chest. “I fucking _left_ you, and I _knew_ you weren’t okay, and I didn’t even _check_ on you, and _you could have--”_ He stops talking abruptly and buries his face in his hands. “And it would have been _my--”_

“Stop,” Jeff says, taking him by the shoulders. “Abed, stop. Look at me. None of this was your fault. _None of it._ You did what you had to do. And honestly, if I hadn’t hit rock bottom, I never would have gotten better.”

Abed looks at Jeff, his face stained with tears. He doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me what happened when Britta and Frankie came out here,” Jeff says.

Abed sniffs and wipes his face with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“I thought I was okay when I got here. I thought I was doing fine. And then I started to feel like I was drowning. And I didn’t know what to do, and I was all alone. I stopped sleeping, kind of. When Britta and Frankie got here I was lying naked on the floor and I hadn’t eaten or showered in days.”

“Makes me think of that song from the 90s,” Jeff mutters.

“Oh, yeah, I had that playing on repeat,” Abed says, grimacing. _“‘He showed me what it was to cry’_ and all that. It was probably a little dramatic.”

“Dramatic, but not shocking,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes. “How did the girls know you needed them?”

“I was making this video diary thing for Britta. To prove to her that I was okay, ironically enough.” Abed laughs bitterly. “I guess it’s proof of my mental state that I decided to send it at all. I watched it later and...by the last video I wasn’t even sitting up, and I was shaking and practically crying. Britta showed Frankie and then they both flew out here a couple days later and put me back together.”

“Do you blame me for what happened to you?” Jeff asks.

“Of course not,” Abed says. “Anyway, it didn’t _happen to me._ I did it to myself.”

“So you can see, then, why you’re in no way to blame for what _I_ did to _myself.”_

“Did you just lawyer me?” Abed asks suspiciously.

“I think I did,” Jeff says. “I’m actually really good at teaching law now, believe it or not.”

“I believe it,” Abed says, and hugs him again.

“Look, Abed, I--” Jeff says, and stops. He takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

Abed’s eyes grow huge, and he opens his mouth and then closes it. Then he does it again.

“When did you _start_ loving me?” he breathes.

“That first time in your dorm room, probably,” Jeff says, shrugging. “When I woke up mostly sober and found you sleeping in a dresser drawer, and remembered what we did the night before, and how it felt. How it made me feel.”

“It was sometime around then for me, too,” Abed says. “At least, that’s when I stopped sleeping with anyone who wasn’t you.”

“That _whole time,”_ Jeff groans. “All those years, we were in love with each other _and_ completely exclusive and we still couldn’t manage to just admit it and call it a relationship?”

“That’s what functional humans would do,” Abed points out. “We’re both fairly functional _now,_ I think, but…” He shakes his head. “We definitely weren’t back then.” He tilts his head and looks Jeff in the eye. “I never stopped loving you either, by the way. And the offer still stands.”

“Offer?”

 _“You could come live with me in California, you know,”_ Abed says wistfully, quoting his past self, echoing the conversation that haunts Jeff’s dreams.

“Do you mean that?” Jeff whispers.

“It would mean leaving our friends behind. And a job you love. And Colorado,” Abed says. “I understand if that’s too much to ask. But yeah, I mean that. I haven’t felt, um…” He pauses to search for the word, wringing his hands a little. “Whole. I haven’t felt whole since we broke up. Or whatever it was we did.”

“They have community colleges in LA,” Jeff muses. “One of them is bound to need a teacher. Or I could become a lawyer again. A legitimate one.”

“Things are going really well for me in the industry,” Abed says. “We could probably afford a bigger apartment.”

“I still struggle sometimes,” Jeff blurts out. “I went to rehab and everything but it’s still hard sometimes. Really hard. I feel like it’s important for you to know that.”

“I do know that, Jeff,” Abed says calmly.

“You do?”

“We struggle in different ways, with different things. But we’re not actually that different, not really. I know what setbacks and relapses and triggers are. When things get hard or bad or scary, you crave a drink, and I pretend I’m not eating because it just slipped my mind. That’s something I’m still working on. Maybe we just need to learn how to support each other, keep each other safe. Make sure we know that we’re not alone.”

“I’d like that,” Jeff says. “For us to support each other.”

“Me too.”

“I missed you so fucking much, Abed,” Jeff says, but it comes out as more of a sob.

“I missed you too,” Abed says, and they’re hugging again, and it’s perfect. “How long are you staying, by the way? Where are you staying? You can--”

Jeff cuts him off with a kiss. “We can work out the logistics later, okay? For now, I just want to make up for lost time.”

“Cool,” says Abed. “Cool cool cool. Would you like to see my bedroom?”

Jeff picks Abed up, carries him like a bride crossing a threshold. 

“Show me the way.”


End file.
